


Wouldn't You Agree

by SavageSavannah



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221 Baker Street, 221B Baker Street, Angst, Bottom John, Bottom Sherlock, F/M, Gay Sex, John Watson and Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Ms. Hudson - Freeform, Ms. Hudson's boyfriend, Top John, Top Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, first time for sherlock, intense case, personal case
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-11 16:56:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3331694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SavageSavannah/pseuds/SavageSavannah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock are beginning their relationship as partners. Fluff and smut but also a case in the works. A very serious case. I will add tags and warnings as they apply, but just fluff right now. Also I can't write summaries. Apologies. Please enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Worth While

            “Wouldn’t you agree, John!” Sherlock jumped from his place on the couch, having just mulled over a most interesting anomaly in the case the flat mates had recently been involved in. He spun about twice, switching directions in between. The room was empty save him and the décor. Sherlock realized John had been gone for some time. He took to the stairs.

            “Ms. Hudson,” he called out loudly. There was no response. “Ms. Hudson! Ms. Hudson!” Sherlock’s voice grew and grew in volume. He sounded like a child calling out for his mother in a way that sounded half worried and half annoying. Suddenly the landlady came bustling out of her flat. She was wiping her palms hastily on her apron and then brushing wisps of her hair away from her face carefully with the backs of her hands.

            “What?! Whatever is the matter?!” She was quite flustered.

            Sherlock straightened his top and narrowed his eyes slightly at her. “John has gone out, I thought you might be in need of some form of human interaction however, I see now you are preparing for just that!”

            “Oh, Sherlock!” Ms. Hudson threw her hands out in an attempt to indicate she had no clue what her tenant might be suggesting.

            “Oh, don’t pretend! You’re baking, but not for John or me. You are dressed rather nicely under your apron for just another day at Baker Street, suggesting you have someone to impress but you got ready before cooking so you don’t seem overly eager or concerned with his opinions. You did still take the time to clean not only the flat but also the foyer area here, though, which means he is used to a very tidy living area. From that it is clear he is either wealthy with a maid, has or had a tidy wife, or is still living with his mother. Judging by your age and taste he is not wealthy or still living at home since the latter would suggest someone much younger. As to whether he is or was married, well I would say the fact that you’ve donned your old wedding ring in an attempt to relate to him means he is indeed still married! Would you disagree, Ms. Hudson?” Sherlock smirked, always pleased to have a chance to show his intellect.

            The little woman before him had her hands on her hips. She huffed. “Oh, all right!”

            “I want to meet him,” Sherlock stated simply.

            “Certainly not!” Ms. Hudson shuddered at the thought. Her mind raced until an idea struck her. “In fact, I’m calling John!”

            “Whatever for?!” Sherlock sounded like a child again. He practically stomped into Ms. Hudson’s flat and plopped down onto a chair at the kitchen table. “You’re making him a cake,” Sherlock taunted. “Must be serious! Too bad he’ll break it off a month from now and return solely to his wife!”

            Ms. Hudson rolled her eyes. “I’m on the phone,” she warned.

            “Bah!” Sherlock heard Ms. Hudson speak John’s name. He sprang from his seat and called out over what she was saying. “Don’t listen to her John! She’s in denial! She’s in danger!”

~

            John Watson heard his flat mate shout something over the sweet woman on the other end of his phone call. He sighed.

            “I’ll be home momentarily, Ms. Hudson.”

            “Do hurry,” the landlady urged. Then the line was cut off. John grimaced as he dropped money onto the counter before him and gathered his groceries. He left the store with an apologetic smile to the cashier who was clearly fed up with her work. When at last John stumbled into 221 Baker Street the sight he found nearly made him drop the bags weighing down his arms. Sherlock was standing on the stairs, constantly making attempts to descend and Ms. Hudson, fierce woman that she was, was holding a broomstick between the wall and the banister, threatening Sherlock all the while that if he were to jump over the railing she’d forbid him from preforming experiments in the kitchen.

            “You’re being unreasonable, Ms. Hudson,” Sherlock groaned.

            “I beg your pardon! I can show you unreasonable if that’s what you’d like!”

            If John Watson’s eyes rolled any more they’d have popped right out of their sockets.

            “Sherlock,” the doctor’s voice boomed through the foyer.

            “Ah hello, John. Please explain the nature of her irrationality to Ms. Hudson. You are far better with words than I,” the detective responded earnestly. John nearly smiled at the compliment but suspected his flat mate was just being cheeky.

            “Help me with the bags, why don’t you?” It wasn’t a suggestion. Sherlock frowned.

            “Ha!” Ms. Hudson gave a quiet but triumphant laugh before returning to her flat and shutting the door behind her. John ignored Sherlock’s huff and shoved a few bags into the taller man’s grasp. When the men had made it up the stairs and dropped off their groceries in the kitchen Sherlock spun towards the door in an attempt to slip away without John noticing.

            “Sherlock, where are you going?”

            The detective didn’t look back. “To continue my conversation with Ms. Hudson, of course. She is in deep need of my assistance and-”

            “Sit down, Sherlock.” John worried briefly he may have sounded too frustrated. They sat across from each other in silence for a while until Sherlock finally spoke up.

            “I found an anomaly in the last case. I told you about it but you had gone out.”

            “There was no food,” John told him.

            Sherlock tried not to feel foolish or neglected. He wanted to say something intelligent. Instead he said, “There was some.”

            John rolled his eyes. “Nothing substantial.”

            “There was tea.” Sherlock tried unsuccessfully not to sound defensive.

            “There wasn’t,” John said incredulously.

            “Ms. Hudson has tea.”

            “She’s just the land lady, Sherlock.”

            Sherlock gave a shrug and a roll of his eyes. “She’s seeing a married man.”

            “That’s her business.”

            “He’ll go back to his wife in a month.”

            “And I’m sure you told her as much.”

            “She deserved to know! Should’ve known already!” Sherlock threw his hands up.

            “Maybe she did,” John suggested.

            “She didn’t.”

            John sighed. “She wants me to take you out tonight.”

            “Whatever for?!”

            John ran his palm down his face, tired of bantering with Sherlock. “So you aren’t interrupting, Sherlock.”

            “I don’t see why that matters.” Sherlock crossed his arms grumpily. John wondered if the detective tried to look that adorable all the time or if it came naturally. Then John shook his head briefly, clearing it.

            “Sherlock.” The doctor was a bit exasperated.

            “You aren’t my keeper,” Sherlock muttered.

            “I don’t mind to be.” What John meant by not minding was that he loved it, that he considered watching after Sherlock an honor. But by the glare on his flat mate’s face it was clear his message was not received.

            “Between you, Ms. Hudson, and my brother I will never get any time to myself!”

            John was silent. He frowned.

            Sherlock clasped his hands together smarmily. “All right, fine. Where to, then? Going to have Gavin find me something trivial?”

            “Greg.”

            Sherlock ignored him. “Pretend Molly just can’t figure out a bodily substance? Make up a birthday you simply must take me along to shop for? What will you do with me, John? Certainly not something worthwhile! There aren’t any cases, I’ve checked!”

            John was quiet for a moment, scared that Sherlock really would find his plans unimportant. Finally, almost too quietly, John spoke. “I was thinking dinner.”

            Sherlock blinked a few times in surprise. “Dinner? Just us?” That last part slipped unwarranted from his lips but he held his composure as if he had planned that all along.

            “Yes, I…I thought we could go out and have a meal together.”

            Sherlock thought about that a moment. A meal with John and John alone sounded lovely. “Okay.”

            “Okay?” John was surprised. Before he could stop himself he asked, “Is that…uhm…worth-”

            “Worth while? Yes I should think so, wouldn’t you?”

             John nodded, happily stunned into silence.

            “You’re blushing,” Sherlock stated simply.

            “What? Oh, well I, uh,” John stumbled foolishly over his words.

            “I apologize for glaring at you early.” Sherlock told his flat mate as he thought back on their conversation. He was realizing that he had jumped to conclusions.

            “I meant to say that I don’t mind watching after you…pro- pro…” John couldn’t make the words form on his lips.

            “I do not need protection, John.”

            John looked down at his hands.

            “If I did, however, I would hope you would be the… _man for the job_.” Sherlock’s lips popped on the final syllable as he tried his best to sound like any ‘average Joe.’ He sounded ridiculous. John could barely keep his grin from spreading ear to ear.

            “Where will we be dining,” the detective inquired.

            “Wherever you would like, Sherlock.”

            “All right.” He stood up, signaling John to do so as well, and donned his coat and scarf. As they were walking out the door Ms. Hudson poked her head around the corner.

            “Don’t you boys look lovely? Have a nice evening!”

            “You also, Ms. Hudson,” John answered.

            “Tell Alfred we said hello,” Sherlock chided.

            “It’s Alfie,” Ms. Hudson countered. She closed her door before either man could respond. Out on the sidewalk John asked Sherlock how he knew the name of Ms. Hudson’s gentleman caller.

            “How don’t you know his name,” Sherlock retorted. John sighed and left it at that.


	2. Rosy Cheeks and Fallen Leaves

            When the flat mates were seated at dinner and waiting for their food John noticed a piece of fallen leaf tangled in Sherlock’s curly locks. Without thinking John leaned forward and grasped the leaf in his fingers gently. Before he could pull away Sherlock’s hand grabbed his wrist. Both men froze.

            “John.” Sherlock was confused. John’s proximity was causing his cheeks to heat up and his stomach to flutter.

            John felt he was about to swallow his tongue. “Sherlock?” He tried his best not to make his words sound like a gulp.

            “What are you doing?” Sherlock’s fingers tightened around John’s wrist.

            “There’s a leaf in your hair.” Both men were speaking nearly in a whisper. Sherlock’s lips formed a little ‘o’ and a shocking wave of disappointment washed over him. He wasn’t sure what he had wanted John to say. His grip loosened. The doctor started to pull back but the detective’s hand didn’t completely fall away until the knuckle of John’s index finger grazed over Sherlock’s cheek. The taller man then sat back in his booth as if he had been slapped. John stifled a leer or a snicker as he dropped the leaf to the ground. When he looked up Sherlock’s face was turned towards the window. In a moment of braveness the doctor spoke up.

            “You’re blushing,” John said as matter-of-factly as Sherlock had earlier.

            “So it would seem, though I’ve no idea why.”

            John’s smile dissipated. “Sherlock Holmes hasn’t a clue? Hard to believe,” he muttered.

            “You’re right. I wasn’t entirely telling the truth. I lied.”

            “Shocker.”

            “I know scientifically why I’m ‘blushing.’ I could even make an educated hypothesis as to why I’m blushing from an emotional standpoint.”

            “Care to elaborate?”

            “No.”

            “Please?”

            “What?” Sherlock turned the full force of his gaze to John.

            “Please elaborate,” John reiterated.

            “I’d rather not.” Sherlock felt nervous. He didn’t like it.

            “Why?” John pressed on. He knew this could cause an argument but in the end, if they said something important, he thought it’d be worth it.

            “Because I prefer not to, John.”

            “But what if that wasn’t an option?”

            “It is!”

            “I say it’s not!”

            “Then tell me why you were blushing at the flat!”

            “You know why!”

            “I don’t.”

            “Bollocks!”

            “All right! Fine. You were blushing because I said dinner with you was worth while and that matters to you because you have a growing emotional attachment to me as well as a desire to have more than a platonic relationship with me. It’s become increasingly relevant these past few weeks. I won’t bore you with details you already know. Or don’t.”

            John was silent for a full minute. Until finally he simply asked, “And why were you blushing, Sherlock?”

            “It would seem because I desire those things as well.”

            Before either man could react any further the waiter arrived with their food. Both John and Sherlock took their plates without looking up. When the waiter asked if they’d need anything else they unwittingly snapped ‘no’ at him in unison. They were silent while they ate, looking up at each other every now and then. Afterwards they split the bill. Nothing was said until they were outside on their way back home through the darkness.

            “I don’t know how this works,” Sherlock admitted.

            “What do you mean?”

            “Well…I do. I know that two people gain desires and affections for each other over time and make the decision to give their relationship a title and to be monogamous or not based on their personal preferences... But I have never experienced it personally. Despite the wishes of my parents, who have a wonderful relationship I’m told.”

            “Do you want our relationship to have a title?” John worried he was letting himself hope too much. But it was best they talk about such things now.

            “Yes.”

            John didn’t respond, expecting Sherlock to continue. When he didn’t John asked, “What would you like that title to be?”

            “I would like to call you my boyfriend. Which would stand to reason that you call me your boyfriend. Also I don’t think I shall be seeing anyone else. You may, though, if you wish.”

            “I don’t.”

            “Okay.” Sherlock smiled in the darkness. So did John. Suddenly, however, something dawned on the detective. He stopped walking. “John.”

            John turned back to him. “Sherlock?”

            “Something else ‘couples’ do… I’ve never done any kind of-”

            “Sherlock, slow down!” John nearly fainted. “We don’t have to-”

            “You don’t want to? That’s understandable.” Sherlock was thankful of the night for hiding the disappointment on his face. But John heard the hurt in the detective’s voice and scrambled to finish his thought.

            “I do want to. Yes, of course, I want to experience as much with you as you want to with me. But we don’t have to move so quickly. If it’s all the same to you let’s take our time. We did just decide to give this a title a minute ago.” John trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, hoping that all came out right.

            Sherlock nodded. “But…can we…”

            “Can we what?”

            “I’ve never kissed anyone, John.”

            John laughed softly, not in ridicule, but in admiration and appreciation. He was to be Sherlock Holmes’ first kiss. “I will kiss you before the night is out, Sherlock. Is that adequate?”

            Sherlock thought for a moment before nodding and continuing on his brisk walk back to 221B Baker Street.


	3. Exhilarating Sensations

            They didn’t bother Ms. Hudson when they got in. Her light was on and a soft tune drifted from under her door way. John shooed Sherlock up the stairs, bidding him not to bother the woman and her companion. Though Sherlock was curious he ascended without argument, more interested in the elusive kiss John had promised. The detective sat in his chair immediately after entering the flat and proceeded to watch John’s every movement.

            “Do you want tea,” the doctor asked, casually.

            “Yes please, thank you John.”

            Soon the boys sat across from each other sipping their tea in silence. John smirked into his mug.

            “Have you checked the inbox? Are there cases?”

            “There weren’t earlier, John.”

            “Yeah, but have you checked since we’ve been back?”

            Sherlock sighed through his nose and went to the computer. He scrolled through. “Cheating husband, lying wife, idiot,” Sherlock spat off the answers to cases he found too easy and uninteresting. “Wait…” he paused suddenly and read a bit further. “Coworker sleeping with the boss… never mind.” He snapped the laptop shut and returned to his seat. “Nope, nothing.” They were silent again for a minute or two.

            “What anomaly was it I wasn’t around to hear this afternoon,” John asked soon, making it seem like the most interesting topic in the world. In reality, however, both men new John was teasing his new boyfriend.

            “John.”

            “No, what was it, Sherlock?”

            Sherlock frowned. “The old woman-”

            “Mrs. Haberdash.”

            “Mrs. Habberdash,” Sherlock gritted his teeth in frustration. “Is not your typical old woman, therefore she made the case different than it would have been with a regular old woman.” Sherlock tried to be vague and quick.

            “How so?” John was enjoying watching his flat mate squirm.

            “Because she was young at heart, John!” Sherlock jumped to his feet. “She made attempts to help, she was far from stingy with information, and she was still very active in her life long career as a sew worker all because she was still young at heart! I on the other hand- ” Sherlock paused to lower his voice and catch a quick breath. “You’re on the way to making me a very old man, John.”

            John smiled and chuckled once. “Sit down and finish your tea, Sherlock.”

            Sherlock was on the verge of a psychotic break at this point. He fell into his chair with a thump, took his mug in hand, and downed the entire thing in one chug. The cup clanked against the table as his set it down. Then, Sherlock did something he knew from observation made John’s heartbeat increase. He put either hand on the side of his head and ran them almost roughly through his hair, causing his curls to dance about the tops of his ears briefly. The detective grinned mischievously at the doctor.

            John felt butterflies stir in his stomach but was confident he kept his blush in check. He returned Sherlock’s snarky grin as he took both their mugs and walked cheerily to rinse them in the kitchen sink, leaving his flat mate practically fuming and throwing an inner tantrum in his seat. As John walked back to the living room he paused ever so briefly at Sherlock’s chair as if a passing thought occurred to him.

            “Sherlock?” The doctor said it as a question though it truly wasn’t.

            “What,” Sherlock responded angrily. As his head snapped up to look at John the doctor bent swiftly with a hand on each of Sherlock’s cheeks and placed his lips to the detective’s.

            For John the kiss was firework forming, the most passionate mouth to mouth embrace he’d ever experienced. His tongue traced gently along Sherlock’s bottom lip as their mouths slow danced to separate songs each playing in the other’s mind.

            For Sherlock the kiss was shocking, like a slap to the face or a sudden dunk in cold water. It scared him at first to the point where he nearly pulled away. But upon taking a second look his mind tried to wrap around this influx of detail he was subjecting himself to. John’s lips were softer than he had originally expected, suggesting the man had upped his lip balm application rate. John’s pulse was speeding up but not as rapidly as one might expect. It was like a slow building theme park ride on it’s way to bottoming out. Sherlock recognized this as building excitement, an understandable reaction to giving someone his or her first kiss he supposed, especially someone like himself. The kiss made the detective’s heart rate rise as well. It made his cheeks turn pink and caused irrational thoughts to flood his head. Like, if it were possible for John to kiss him this way for the rest of their lives without ceasing, which wouldn’t be very long due to death from dehydration, he’d be happier than he’d ever been, more content than any case could make him. The thought cause Sherlock to suddenly break away in a fit of laughter.

            “Sherlock,” John gasped for breath, confused as to why the kiss had ended.

            “Ah, John! That was exhilarating!”

            John sighed, the weight of anxiety lifting from his shoulders. “I’m glad you’re pleased,” he chuckled.

            “Can we do it again?” Sherlock jumped up to meet John’s height. Their eyes prodded each other.

            “Well yes, I would guess so-” John’s words were cut off by Sherlock’s lips pressing back to his. With both men standing, the detective had the upper hand.

            Sherlock walked John backwards as they kissed. He had one hand tangled in John’s hair and the other on the shorter man’s chest as he steadily pushed him back against the wall. John stumbled but let Sherlock lead him. The detective’s mouth grew more forceful.  The sensations bombarding his brain made him wonder what else he could learn. The hand on John’s chest slid down to John’s hip and Sherlock realized something he’d always known but never put much thought into. It was one of the things that had been pushed away to make room for thing that seemed more important. Right now, however, Sherlock couldn’t think of anything other than the fact that John was extremely well built, extremely muscled. Hell, the doctor was sculpted like marble. Sherlock couldn’t get enough. He stopped kissing John’s lips and kissed his face instead, moving slowly across the doctor’s jawline and down his neck.

            John was overwhelmed. “Sherlock.”

            The detective made no response.

            John put his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders and pushed him back. “Sherlock,” he said a bit more firmly.

            The detective straightened up and wiped his mouth. “I’m sorry, John. These new sensations are overwhelming.”

            “Tell me about it,” John bemused. He laid his head back against the wall and wiped the sweat from his brow. He tried to ignore the throbbing in his trousers.

            “Is it all like this? What else is there to learn, John?” Sherlock’s voice was full of eagerness.

            John grinned flirtatiously at the sight of Sherlock actually asking him for knowledge. “The great consulting detective bewildered by the simplicity of human touch,” he whispered.

            Sherlock’s look turned predatory. He saw a way to gain the upper hand. “That’s where you’re wrong, John. Human touch is far from simple. It’s fascinating.” Sherlock leaned in and let his breath ghost across John’s ear. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

            John nodded with a small smile.  “Yes. So fascinating that it would be a shame to try and swallow all the sensations at once, don’t you think?”

            “Certainly not!” Sherlock scrambled to be in control again.

            “Come on, Sherlock, take something slowly for once,” John taunted.

            “I have no desire to partake in your challenges,” Sherlock denied.

            John’s grin widened. He placed his lips to his boyfriend’s and murmured, “Don’t you,” against Sherlock’s mouth. Then he slipped away and headed for his bedroom.

            “Sleep well, my darling.” John hoped the pet name wasn’t too much. It’d slipped unwarranted from his lips. He glanced back once.

            Sherlock’s eyes were alight. He smiled softly at John.


	4. Telling Ms. Hudson

             Morning came earlier than normal, too early for Ms. Hudson to have already brought the tea. John awoke to the happy sound of Sherlock’s violin. John didn’t bother dressing for the day, merely donned a pair of pjs.

            Sherlock was also in his nighttime attire; his robe fluttered about as he moved with the music. He stopped playing as John came into the living room.

            "Good morning.” They spoke in unison.

            "Did you sleep adequately?” Sherlock sat down, putting his violin to the side.

            "I did, and you?”

            "Well enough.” In reality Sherlock had hardly slept at all. His mind had raced all night, flooded with thoughts of John’s face, John’s skin, John’s muscles, John’s thoughts and opinions, John, John, _John_! Sherlock considered himself an expert on many things, but not John. John was always an enigma, as was the way John made him feel. And Sherlock couldn’t even imagine the way he made John feel.

            John could, of course. And unlike Sherlock, John was not lying when he said he slept well. In fact, ‘well’ was an understatement. John had dreamt of Sherlock all night. He dreamt of he and Sherlock together for years to come, he dreamt of teaching Sherlock all those ‘little’ things about relationships that the detective didn’t know. Sherlock had said that human touch was fascinating, but John knew it from experience when Sherlock did not.

            "Tea?” John realized they were up too early, he thought perhaps he could make the tea this morning.

            "I’m actually content to wait on Ms. Hudson. In fact, I thought we might invite her to join us for tea this morning. I would like to tell her of our title, if that’s okay with you.”

            John nearly choked on his saliva. He had assumed, despite the formal title, that Sherlock would be reluctant to announce it to the world right away. He knew this was only Ms. Hudson, but still. Sherlock was a very private man.

            “I see no benefit from hiding our relationship, do you? Ms. Hudson has suspected as much for some time, anyway. I think she’ll be quite thrilled.”

            “That sounds fine to me, Sherlock.” John was trying his best not to beam at his boyfriend. ‘Fine’ was the biggest understatement to ever leave John’s lips. He was ecstatic.

            “One thing however…”

            John’s heart dropped into his stomach. He held his breath and prepared for the worst.

            "You called me Darling…”

            "I’m sorry, was I too forward? I won’t again if-”

            “I liked it.”

            John waited for the ‘but’.

            “But perhaps only in private if you please…not really the thing for the job or anything…wouldn’t you agree?”

            John couldn’t here anything besides ‘the job.’ “You plan to tell the yard,” he asked incredulously.

            "Unless you’d rather I didn’t?” Sherlock was confused about John’s tone. Was he angry? Was he thrilled?

            "No, I had hoped that you would. I just thought you might not wish to.”

            "As I said, I see no reason to hide it. In fact, I quite like the thought of being open about it…”

              John couldn’t help his teasing smirk as he asked, “Why?”

              “I appear to be a bit possessive,” Sherlock countered simply with an amused look.

             John let a giggle burst from his lips as an image of how the faces of those at Scotland Yard might look after hearing the news flooded his mind. Donovan might puke. John chuckled again.

            “What’s funny?”

            “Do you think Donovan might puke?”

            Sherlock grinned. “I hope so. And Anderson too. It will be truly interesting to see my brother’s response.”

            They laughed heartily in unison.

            “Well, Sweetheart,” John said finally. He watched Sherlock’s lips curl up at the corners with pride. “Shall we go down and visit with Ms. Hudson?”

            “She does seem to be running a bit behind this morning.” Sherlock stood and tied his robe.

            “Careful,” John whispered as he noticed his boyfriend’s cheeks. “You’re blushing again. Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

            Sherlock gave a small smile. “I hardly think Ms. Hudson is that observant.” He kissed John’s lips briskly. “Besides. Now you’re blushing too.”

            John chuckled as they descended, how simply wonderful things had become in the matter of a night.

~

           Sherlock froze as he hit the bottom of the stairs. The light in Ms. Hudson’s apartment was on and the sound of a record that had hit the end of its track could be heard. It was the only thing breaking the silence.

            John’s eyes widened as he stopped behind Sherlock. Neither man made any move to look at each other, to speak, or to call out. They just ran forward, busting through the door into a ramshackle room with the lights and all left on. The cake was smashed. The dishes were on the floor. The oven was open. The trash was knocked over.

            "Ms. Hudson,” John gave a frantic screech for the little woman as he ran to the other rooms in search of her.

            “She’s not here, John!” Sherlock grabbed his flat mate by the shoulder. “If he’d left her here she’d already be dead and he would’ve made an attempt to cover his tracks.” Sherlock tried to quell his rage as he explained. “He left the lights on and the music playing so nothing would be known until morning. He’s had time to get her out of London. Are her clothes gone? Check her closet.”

             John scurried off as Sherlock called Scotland Yard.

            “Lestrade?! Ms. Hudson’s been kidnapped. Get to Baker Street!” He hung up. John was at his side again.

            "It’s all gone, clothes, shoes, jewelry, everything.”

            Sherlock sprinted to Ms. Hudson’s bedroom. He delved into the recesses of her drawers, her closet, under the bed, everywhere. Clothes were missing from random drawers. Only the expensive jewelry was missing. There were no suitcases left. There was no safe.

            “There’s no safe,” Sherlock muttered.

            “What?”

            “A safe, John!” Sherlock looked up at him from his place on the floor by the bed. “Ms. Hudson is the type of woman that would have a safe for important documents, birth certificates, passports, social security cards. She wouldn’t have used a safety deposit box, she had a personal safe!”

            They heard the members of Scotland Yard let themselves in.

            “John? Sherlock,” Lestrade called out for them.

            “Lestrade! Get me a torch,” Sherlock shouted.

            “What?” Greg found them in an instant.

            “Get me a flash light,” Sherlock demanded.

            Lestrade called out for Donovan to bring a torch. Sherlock shined it under the bed and then in the closet.

            “Here,” he pointed to the back corner behind the closet door where it could be seen that something had sat on top of the carpet. “The safe was there. He took the whole thing.”

            “What safe,” Lestrade interjected.

            “Sherlock thinks Ms. Hudson would’ve kept a safe for important documents,” John answered.

            “I don’t think, John. I know.”

            “All right well why would he take it,” Lestrade questioned.

            “Well isn’t it obvious? He wants to get out of the country.”

            “What?” John was in shock.

            “Why,” Lestrade was bewildered as well.

            “I don’t know! I don’t know I’m missing something.” Sherlock put his fingers to his temples.

            “Who’s he?” Sally’s voice sounded almost accusing, as usual.

            “Alfred.” Sherlock and John answered in unison.

            “Who the hell is Alfred,” Lestrade was struggling to grasp all that Sherlock knew.

            “Well actually he goes by Alfie and-” Sherlock froze.

            “Sherlock,” John almost whispered.

            “Ahhh, _I’m such an idiot_!”

            Everyone was silent in preparation for Sherlock to continue.

            The detective looked at them all as if they should know what he was thinking. John fought the urge to roll his eyes.

            Finally Sherlock shouted in an exasperated voice, “ _ALFIE!"_


	5. Update:

Ladies and Gentleman I am afraid I have been extremely busy as of late with school and work. I will not be able to update this story until after April 6th at the earliest. My apologies for the lag in chapters. I hope this won't effect your reading in the future. I look forward to completing this tale and I hope each of you has a wonderful couple of weeks. Thank you for your support. Happy reading. <3


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